


tadaima / okaeri

by wheatfields



Series: loving you's like coming home [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, Epistolary, Fluff, Longing, M/M, POV Kita Shinsuke, Poetry, Slow Burn, Yearning, does poetry count as epistolary? oh well, i've been told this has wedding vow vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29440014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheatfields/pseuds/wheatfields
Summary: about longing for and finding home; of leaving, searching, and finally returning.in which shinsuke loves atsumu so much, he turns it into poetry.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Series: loving you's like coming home [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162883
Kudos: 1
Collections: Atsukita Week, Kita Ship Week 2021, Rice Quartet Week 2021





	tadaima / okaeri

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing i ever wrote for atsukita (my contribution to atsukita day on 1/7), originally posted on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/kitsumushoyo/status/1347210832636071936)! thought it also fit pretty well for the Kita Ship Week 2021 day 2 prompts domestic + little things + (bonus) home and Rice Quartet Week 2021 day 5: longing ☺

1.7.2021

**“tadaima / okaeri”**

i am built upon the small things i do every day  
and this is what i have grown used to:  
a routine, without surprises,  
with no more spikes of excitement.  
i receive only what i have harvested;  
performing the set of expectations  
that we ought to do as adults now.

most people will tell you that this new life suits me;  
peace and contentment alongside hard work.  
my life has never been a stranger to toil.  
many will see how i have strived and call it noble—  
they misunderstand. this is what i have always done  
and while we all search for contentment,  
i have never once sought peace.

what does it mean to find peace, or to know it?  
and how could i ever, after knowing you?  
though we could not be more different—  
i grow the grain while you grow against it;  
i am practicality and you are spontaneity—  
you are what i continue to seek out, to grasp at;  
rooted like a habit i am unable to unlearn.

things are different now. there was a time i thought  
i could live without you—perhaps, even now, i could  
if i had to—but that is a day i wish would never come.  
there are nights when my only wish is to hold you.  
i only believe in things that have been practiced  
and you have never made a promise you could not keep.  
your love is in your labor, and who am i to refuse this result?

after all, i have always been a fixed point  
and you have always had a fixed destination.  
somehow, along the way, gold met gold once again—  
soft like your hair, my eyes; solid like our keys, our rings.  
ours is a story about longing for and finding home;  
of leaving, searching, and finally returning  
like it had always meant to. like it had always belonged.

remember the fact that i love you, here and now—  
and maybe i have always loved you, even then.  
we don’t need memories, but love is a time machine.  
sometimes, i imagine the future instead;  
i picture the ink of my hair fading into pure white.  
i love you through the years as your gold turns silver  
and you wear it more beautifully than any medal.

i will take it a day at a time, properly, every day.  
i start with peace: grateful meditation and mindful breaths  
as i stretch to greet the morning through the blinds.  
but then you walk through the doors—  
your voice raucous and brash,  
your presence loud and brazen—  
and this place finally, _finally_ feels like home.


End file.
